Motivation
by LadySolitaire83
Summary: Sherlock and Molly's experiment begins. (Part 4 of "Scarves and Love" series)


**MOTIVATION**

**A/N: Welcome to Part 4 of the "Scarves and Love" series! I hope y'all like this.**

**Thank you to everyone who read the stories in the series. You all rock! **

**I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

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Molly's mobile beeped while she watched _Pacific Rim_. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table without looking at its screen. "Come on, Stacker. Let Mako spar with Raleigh already!" She took her eyes off the telly and finally looked at her mobile when it beeped again.

On the way to your flat. - SH

I will need your first aid kit. - SH

_Bloody hell_, she thought. _Today of all days, Sherlock._ She paused the DVD and headed to her bathroom to get the first aid kit. She checked its contents, noting that she needed to buy more washproof plasters. She went to her bedroom and quickly removed his scarf from the box in her closet. She brought the scarf to her nostrils before returning to the sitting area. She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table and held the scarf in one hand as she texted Sherlock.

Are you back then? - xM

Yes. - SH

For good? - xM

Yes. Open the door. - SH

After setting the scarf beside the first aid kit, Molly ran down the stairs and opened the front door. Joy swelled within her as she took in the image before her: Sherlock Holmes standing at her doorstep, his raven curls shinier than ever, his blue-green eyes boring into her brown ones, his gloved hands stuffed into the pockets of his Belstaff coat, and her favourite green scarf wrapped around his pale neck. He also had a bruise and a cut on his cheek, no doubt the result of his reunion with John.

"Hello, Molly," he greeted her with a brief kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, Sherlock. Welcome back," she greeted him with a smile. Blushing, she stepped aside to let him enter the building. "Come in."

They ascended the stairs in silence. Toby stared at Sherlock and he stared back at the feline. "Hello, Toby," he said as he hung up his coat. He removed his gloves and placed them on the side table. The cat meowed at him and climbed on the armchair.

Sherlock turned to Molly, who was coming back from the kitchen with an ice pack. "I don't think it likes me," he remarked as he uncoiled the scarf from his neck. "By the way, thank you for letting me borrow this," he said, handing her the green cashmere scarf.

She cocked her eyebrow. "Like I had a choice." She took the scarf from him and placed it beside his on the coffee table. "If you hadn't mentioned it in your text, I wouldn't have noticed that you took it."

He picked up his blue scarf and studied it as he spoke. "I didn't want to wake you just to get your permission to take your scarf. I also didn't have time to add it to my note." He threw his scarf onto the coffee table and it landed on hers.

She rolled her eyes as she gently pressed the ice pack against the bruise on his cheek. "Keep this on the bruise until I say so, all right?"

He nodded and looked around her flat, fixing his gaze on the snoozing cat. "Does it hate me?"

"I don't think so." She giggled. "Just be thankful he's only ignoring you. If he hated you, he'd follow you around and hiss at you until you leave. You'd also end up with scratch marks." She gestured for him to sit on the couch.

He paused by the armchair and stared at Toby. "So what does it do when it likes someone?"

"He'd follow you around and beg to be petted." She caught the look on his face. "Sherlock, you are not experimenting on my cat."

He gave her a petulant look and plopped down on her couch. "I can't even observe its behaviour?"

She sat on the coffee table across him. "You may. But if you do anything to influence his behaviour or if you hurt him, I will ban you from the morgue and the lab."

He scoffed at her. "No, you won't. The _hospital_ can't even ban me."

"Yes, I will. And you'll just end up begging me to let you back in. You wouldn't need the hospital to make me lift the ban."

"I don't beg!" he protested.

"Right. You'll just avoid Barts and send John for a few weeks, if you can last that long. Then you'll worry about your ongoing experiments and you'll want to see that no one has ruined or gotten rid of them. Either that, or you'll take a murder case and plead to my bleeding heart to let you back in. In the end, you'll beg in your own little way."

He frowned and humphed. "Fine."

"Now, shush and take the ice off the bruise, so I can treat your cut."

He complied and let her take over. "What were you watching?"

She turned briefly to the telly and saw Raleigh Becket and Mako Mori frozen on the screen. "Oh. That's _Pacific Rim_. I don't think you'd like that movie."

"Is that new? I haven't seen any films since John made me watch James Bond movies." Despite Sherlock's best efforts, Molly heard the sadness in his voice at the mention of his angry best friend.

"Yep. I saw the movie in the cinema a few months ago. I loved it so much so I bought the DVD." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, how's John?"

The glance that he gave her was full of hurt and she almost felt bad that she brought it up. "He's probably drinking Scotch as his fiancée comforts him. You didn't tell me he was engaged."

She swallowed. She never did mention it. "Sorry. I, uh, I thought your brother told you."

"Clearly, he didn't. He stopped telling me anything about my friends in the last few months of my mission. He'd only tell me that you were all safe. But _you_ could have told me." She caught his eye and her heart broke at the pain in it.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I should have told you." She brought her free hand to his face and cupped his cheek. "Tell me what happened," she prompted.

The hurt in his eyes immediately turned into guilt and slight embarrassment. "I snuck into his flat whilst he was in the middle of ripping her clothes off." His cheeks flushed as he glanced at her.

She stared at him. _Oh, Sherlock._ She finished applying the plaster on his cut before folding her hands on her lap. "And?"

He shrugged, though he couldn't wipe off the guilty look in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. "I didn't see her private parts, if that's what you're worried about. I, uh, I miscalculated. I saw them enter the flat this afternoon and I noticed the modest diamond on her left ring finger. Judging by the dim light from their kitchen window, they were having an intimate candlelit dinner. I only wanted to reveal myself to John in the middle of their meal. I'd assumed being full from food and being with his fiancée would keep him from violently attacking me. I didn't anticipate that they'd abandon their dinner and go straight to dessert. And by dessert, I mean-"

"I know what it means," she interrupted. A smile formed on Molly's lips. "And how long did it take John to punch you in the face?"

"Less than ten seconds. He saw me, let go of his fiancée, walked up to me, gaped at me for a few seconds, and then punched me _twice_. If she didn't restrain him, he would have hit me more."

She couldn't help giggling at the image of Sherlock walking in on John and Mary tearing each other's clothes off. She tried containing her laughter when he began glaring at her. "I'm sorry. It's just-" She let out a few more giggles until she could look at his pout without losing it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be finding it so funny."

He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back against the cushions. "It is _not_ funny!" But he glanced at her and she saw the amusement in his eyes. He began chuckling, and she couldn't help but join him. They began to sober when he placed his hand on hers. "I messed up, didn't I?" he admitted.

She nodded. "Yeah, you kinda did." Her heart began thumping in her chest when she noticed him staring at their hands. "Sherlock?"

He glanced at her and smiled. "What?"

The beep of her mobile interrupted them. She grabbed it and read the text message.

Hey, have you seen Sherlock? John's worried. - MM

Molly showed the message to the detective. "What do you want me to tell them?"

"Tell her I'm with you." The intense gaze that he was giving her made her heart beat faster.

Tell him not to worry. He's with me. - xMolly

She typed another message to Mary and hit 'Send' before Sherlock noticed what she was doing.

"Molly, no!" He grabbed the mobile from her hands, but the message was successfully sent before he could read it.

He apologises for ruining your evening. - xMolly

He threw the phone aside. "Why did you do that?" He glared at her and placed his hands on her shoulders. His jaw clenched and his hold on her shoulders tightened.

"You do want to apologise, don't you? I-I mean, you admitted that you messed up. I'm sorry if I misunderstood you. I only wanted-"

"Well, yes, I do want to apologise to John. But-" She raised her eyebrow at him and he fell silent. "Thank you," he said after a moment.

"You're welcome." She rose from the coffee table. "Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea, please."

A few minutes later, she handed him a cup of tea. She sat down next to him and sipped from her own cup. She tried to ignore his suit jacket that was now draped over the backrest of her couch and the buttons on his white shirt that were struggling to stay on. "Are you really back for good?"

He turned to her and nodded. "Yes. I've dismantled the network, with a little bit of help from my brother," he told her. "John, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, and you are now safe."

She sighed in relief. "Thank God." She turned to him. "Are you OK?"

"Of course I'm OK. Why wouldn't I be? It's just a bruise and a cut."

"No, I mean-" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, his gaze was boring into her. "How many people did you have to kill to destroy Jim's - I mean, Moriarty's - web?"

"You don't want to know." He turned his attention back to the telly. "Why? Will it affect your feelings for me?"

"No! It's just that no one comes back unchanged or unscathed from three years of hunting down and killing criminals." She squeezed his hand. "Are you having any trouble sleeping? Do you feel angrier sometimes? Are you having nightmares about those three years? Are you experiencing any flashbacks? Are you having problems with your memory or concentration?" His eyes flashed with worry at her last question. "Did you talk to someone - a psychologist, perhaps - before you came back?"

He set his cup on the side table and Molly did the same. He took a deep breath before turning to her and squeezing her hand. "Mycroft debriefed me after I killed Sebastian Moran, who was Moriarty's lieutenant and John's sniper. Then he made me talk to a psychologist. She put me under hypnosis and I told her things." He rubbed her knuckles with this thumb. "I remember talking about how I missed John's friendship, how I missed Mrs Hudson's insistence that she's not my housekeeper when she's bringing up food or tea, even Lestrade's attempts to keep me in line. Also, how I missed working with you in the morgue and in the lab. How I missed your morbid humour." She stuck her tongue out, making him chuckle. "How I missed your lips." He traced her lower lip with his thumb. Her lips parted, hoping that he would kiss her. But he lowered his head and cleared his throat. "I never did see her report. But she declared me fit to go back, so here I am." His expression hardened. "Molly, I killed those men and women because I never want to see my friends' lives in danger again from anyone in Moriarty's organization. I killed them out of necessity. So don't you dare judge what I did."

Careful not to touch his bruise and cut, she held his face with both hands and kissed him on the mouth. "Sherlock, no. You misunderstood me. I'm not judging you. I understand why you did what you did. Trust me, I'm with you one hundred per cent. I only need to know how I can help you." She kissed him again. "Promise me that you'll talk to me or to John if you ever need to talk about anything in those three years that you were gone. I know you'll never go to a therapist, so please remember that you can talk to me or to John. Please, Sherlock?"

He gazed at her for a few moments. "Thank you. But John is angry with me right now." She could hear the pain in his voice.

"Once you two have had a proper talk, I'm sure he'll forgive you. I don't know how long it'll take him to fully process everything that's happened, though. That's why I'm offering to listen if you ever need to talk about it."

"You're willing to be my therapist? Why?"

She gave him a gentle smile. "You know why."

He kissed her this time, the kiss full of tenderness that she never expected from him. "I don't deserve you," he murmured against her mouth.

"You don't."

He chuckled before pulling her head towards him and crashing his Cupid's bow lips against hers. It wasn't long before his tongue was demanding entrance. She opened her mouth and let him in as she moved to straddle him, his hands settling on her waist. She rolled her hips and gasped when her damp centre connected with his hardness.

She moaned his name when he started nipping on her neck and licking the faint teeth marks. Her hands flew to his hair and she began carding her fingers through his raven curls, making him moan. His mouth on her collarbone made her pull on his hair, making him growl and buck his hips.

He pulled her head down and kissed her with a hunger she never associated with Sherlock Holmes. He rubbed his thumb across her hardening nipple. Once her nipple was taut, he pulled up her T-shirt until her red lace bra was exposed.

She had enough time to remove her shirt and throw it on the couch before he pulled down the cups of her bra. She cursed loudly when his lips closed around her rock-hard nipple while his hand kneaded her other breast. She reluctantly pushed him away so she could shed her bra. His mouth and hand were back on her breasts before her bra hit the floor. She rolled her hips again and she smirked at the moan that he made.

While he played with her breasts, she removed her hands from his hair, earning her a groan of disapproval. He shut up and continued his delicious assault on her breasts when she ran her hands across his torso. She rubbed his nipples with her thumbs before undoing the top button of his tight white shirt.

She pulled his mouth away from her flesh and kissed him. "My turn," she said in a low, husky voice. She smirked as the bulge in his trousers grew. She kissed and nipped on his jaw, his chin, his throat. She kissed and licked every inch of chest she uncovered.

She was about to undo the last three buttons of his shirt when she saw several elongated scars across his stomach. She lifted the hem and looked up at him. "You almost died?" When he nodded, she slid off his lap, knelt on the floor between his legs, and began kissing each light pink scar. She kissed down his abdomen until she reached the waistband of his trousers. She raised her head to look at him and saw unbridled lust. Knowing that she was responsible for that look in his eyes, she bit her lower lip as she gazed up at him.

With a grunt, he pulled her up and sat her on his lap again. "Molly," he growled. "I'm not going to last if you keep looking at me like you want to eat me."

She cursed when she felt him slip his hand under her pyjama's waistband and cup her soaking wet sex through her knickers. She ground herself against his palm and whimpered when the heel of his hand touched her swollen clit. She removed his belt with trembling hands as she nipped on his full lower lip.

She was about to undo the button on his trousers when he pushed her away from him. He removed his hand from her knickers and placed it on her face. She could smell her arousal on his fingers and, judging by his groan, he could smell it too. He gazed into her eyes and licked his lips. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice deeper and husky with need.

She gazed back at him. His pupils were so blown that only a thin ring of blue-green was visible on each eye. He was lightly panting and he kept licking his lips. He thrusted up when her hand rested on his erection. "Yes. So fucking sure." And she ripped his shirt off, the remaining buttons flying in every direction.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked as he rose from the couch with her in his arms.

She automatically wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. "Yes. Problem?"

He chuckled, his voice deeper than ever, making her even wetter. "You ruined my shirt." He lightly bit her nipple as he backed into the partly open bedroom door.

"Shut up. You can cover it up with your scarf and your coat when you go home tonight."

He kicked the door closed and laid her on the bed. He removed his trousers while she pulled off her pyjama bottoms. He shucked off his boxers, his thick cock standing at attention. He knelt on the floor and gestured for her to scoot up the bed until her feet rested on the edge. "Who said I'm going home tonight?" Then, keeping his eyes on her, he licked her big toe before putting it in his mouth.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed as he began sucking on her toe.

His wet tongue swirling around her toe made her clit throb. He gently and slowly licked between her toes before moving on to the next one, making her arch up the bed and close her eyes. When he had thoroughly sucked and licked the toes on her foot, and massaged her foot at the same time, he dragged his tongue along the bottom of her toes from one side of her foot to the other. "You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, keeping his voice deep.

She raised herself, supporting her torso with her elbows, and stared at his smirking face. "Where did you learn how to do that?" she panted.

"Sexual fetish sites." He began massaging her other foot and licked her other big toe. "And the Woman."

"What woman?" The thought of Sherlock pleasuring another woman during those three years threw ice water on her desire.

"Relax." He sucked on her big toe before she pulled it out of his mouth. He sighed and placed his arms on the bed. "You read John's blog. Irene Adler, the woman I identified on Christmas morning, was a dominatrix when we met her."

She sat up and glared at Sherlock. "How the fuck could she teach you how to do that if she were dead on a slab on fucking Christmas morning?"

He furrowed his brows. "Not good?"

"No shit, Sherlock." She rolled her eyes. "Just answer the fucking question!"

He took another deep breath. "She faked her death and I helped her move out of the UK. I found a way to contact her and asked her how to pleasure a woman. She wanted to meet me and show me, but I refused. So she gave me a list of erotic fetishes and instructions. I neither heard from her nor contacted her again." He crawled up the bed and knelt before Molly, who was hugging her knees to herself. He brushed his thumbs across her cheek. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft and his tone tender. "I regret mentioning her at all. But please believe me when I say that you're the only woman I ever want to be intimate with. So forget I ever mentioned her and let's continue our experiment, all right?"

She looked into his eyes and saw the truth in his words. So she nodded and kissed him. "OK. But I'm gonna need you to fuck me. And fuck me hard."

He gestured for her to lie back down and his lips moved to her neck. After a few minutes of nipping and licking, he moved down to her chest. He lightly bit her left nipple while he rubbed his thumb across her other nipple, making her moan. He switched to the other nipple and bit harder as he pinched the wet, taut left nipple. He slid down her body and nipped and kissed her stomach. By the time he began fucking her navel with his tongue, the fire in her belly had returned and her clit had begun throbbing again. He slid lower until his nose was nudging her mons. He sniffed and playfully bit his lip. "You smell good." He spread her legs and swiped his tongue up her drenched crotch. "Mmmm... You taste good." But he only grinned at her before returning to his spot on the floor. He resumed sucking and licking her toes while massaging her foot with his fingers. By the time his tongue dragged along the bottom of her toes from one side of her foot to the other, Molly had turned into a moaning, throbbing mess.

"Fucking hell, Sherlock," she whimpered.

He chuckled as he crawled back on the bed. He hooked his thumb under the waistband of her knickers. "Off," he growled. She obeyed and he spread her legs even further. She bent her legs and set her feet on the bed. "Good girl," he muttered against her wetness. He sucked on her labia majora, making her squeal in surprise and moan in pleasure. He parted her lips with his fingers and lightly brushed his thumb across her swollen clit. "You're beautiful," he remarked before enveloping her clit with his lips. She bucked her hips when he began sucking on her sensitive button.

"Ohhhhh, fuck!" she exclaimed when one long finger entered her. She thrashed and moaned loudly when another finger joined the other. He nipped and sucked on her clit as he fucked her with his fingers. His mouth never left her clit, even when she started spasming and contracting around his fingers.

She arched her back and let out a long moan as she climaxed. When her senses returned, she found Sherlock hovering over her. His mouth and chin glistened with her juices and he grinned. "Fuck you," she told him before she pulled his head down for a heated kiss. Tasting herself on his lips and tongue aroused her again. But she wanted to return the favour so she pulled away. "Lie back," she instructed.

He obeyed and watched her as she kissed and licked her way down his body. He audibly swallowed when she reached his groin. She lightly stroked his length, her fingers barely touching his shaft. Grinning, she held his gaze as she lowered her lips onto his cock. She took what she could fit into her mouth and stroked what she couldn't. She enjoyed his moans as she began moving her mouth up and down his length. She alternately sucked, licked, and stroked his cock. Shortly after she started lightly squeezing his bollocks while she sucked him off, she felt his hand pulling her away from his penis. "Molly, stop before I..." He closed his eyes and tried again. "I want to come inside you."

She released his cock and gave his tip a light kiss before moving to straddle him. She opened her bedside drawer and removed a foil wrapper. She rolled the condom over his erection. She kissed him before taking his cock and guiding it into her entrance. "Let's go slowly, OK?" He could only nod. She lowered her body until half of his penis was inside her, then raised herself until only the head was inside. She repeated this a couple of times until she could take his full length. She rolled her hips before raising herself and slamming back down on him, making both of them moan loudly. They quickly found the perfect rhythm and soon, she could feel another orgasm coming on.

But before she could climax, he flipped them over and he began pounding into her. He hooked her leg over his hip and her other leg followed. "Fuck," he breathed against her shoulder as he thrusted deeper into her.

She moaned his name, her nails digging into his back, her hips bucking to meet his thrusts. Knowing that she was close, her hand slid downwards. She rubbed her clit a few times, and then her muscles began clenching around his cock. "Sherlock!" she moaned as her body began to tingle and her toes began to curl.

He thrusted hard and stilled. "Molly, Molly, Molly..." he breathed as he spilled his seed.

A few minutes of heavy breathing and lazy kissing later, Sherlock pulled out and lay back on the bed. Molly moved to give him room and pulled up the comforter to cover themselves. He disposed of the condom and urged her to roll to her side. She laid her head on his chest and draped her arm over his belly. She looked up at him and grinned. "Remind me to thank Irene Adler tomorrow."

He laughed. "I didn't learn it all from the Woman, you know. John has - or rather, had - an extensive porn collection. Out of boredom and curiosity, I watched them on his laptop. I locked up everything I learned in my mind palace. Then I left and I spent the next three years researching more on sex when I'm not dismantling Moriarty's web. I also spent those three years fantasising about you." He caressed her cheek and smiled at her. "For the record, the three-year wait was worth it."

"So I measured up to your fantasies?"

"Come here." He waited until she had scooted up. Then he pulled her for a kiss. "You exceeded all my expectations," he declared once they broke apart.

She blushed. "Thank you. You weren't so bad yourself," she teased.

He only smirked at her. "Understatement of the year. That was the best sex of your life, and you know it."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, you're right. But that was only our first time together."

"Indeed. Wanna try again?"

"Later. That was exhausting."

He smirked and kissed her mouth. "Goodnight, Molly."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

She scooted down and laid her head on his chest. They eventually fell asleep with their arms wrapped around each other.

* * *

Several hours later, the feel of tongue swirling around her throbbing clit awoke Molly. She raised her head and watched his curls bounce as he worked her clit. "Sherlock? What the hell?"

He pulled his mouth away from her cunt and raised his eyebrow at her. "Data, Molly. I need more data for the experiment."

"So you use oral sex to wake me up?"

"Obviously. Then I plan to take you from behind. Are you all right with that?"

"Fuck, yes." She lay back down and moaned as he proved once again that he was a cunning linguist.

Two orgasms later, she lay face down on the bed, with Sherlock panting against her hair. He was just coming down from his climax and his hand still cupped her right breast. "Sherlock?"

"Yes, love?"

"Best experiment ever."

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_Again, thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, and/or favourited my first ever fanfic _Until We Meet Again_ and the three sequels. Thanks for the encouragement and the kind words. _

_So what do you guys think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


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